


A Christmas Hallelujah

by HerSistersKeeper



Series: Twelve Days of Reylo [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Religious, Christmas, Christmas Music, Christmas Romance, Church AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Hate to Love, Hux is Not Nice, Kylo is doing his best, Religion, Rey is a music teacher, Singing, church
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerSistersKeeper/pseuds/HerSistersKeeper
Summary: Rey has always been satisfied with her stake in life: granddaughter of the local church's pastor, music teacher at the high school, director of the Christmas cantata, third year running. She just needs everything perfect, something that could unravel when prodigal son, Ben "Kylo" Solo, walks back into church and into the lead role of her musical.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [insertcoolname13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcoolname13/gifts), [jandjsalmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jandjsalmon/gifts).



> I'm not sure how I personally feel about this fic, but as it's inspired by one of my favorite songs (Hallelujah, by Leonard Cohen, as covered by Pentatonix). I didn't mean to get as religious as I did, but I guess that's just holiday nostalgia talking. Let me know what you think!

The parking lot was empty when she pulled in, save for two cars. Rey Kenobi shook her head with a smile as she parked, tutting at the familiar vehicle adjacent to her own. Of course Grandpa Ben couldn’t have waited for her this morning, leaving while she was in the shower, trying to hurry so he wouldn’t leave her behind, like usual. Typical. She snuggled further down into her parka, seeing her breath as she huffed at the cold. The church stood, looking back at her, quaint and simple and warm with memories and she crossed the parking lot eagerly, thankful that the front door was unlocked, that her arrival was actually anticipated.

Many twenty-somethings wouldn’t choose to spend their Saturdays at church, but many twenty-somethings weren’t Rey, who hummed to herself as she walked through the long hall preceding the chapel, flicking on lights here and there before taking a left, making a beeline to the other end of the church.

 This year, as with last year, and the year before, she was leading and directing the holiday cantata, an honor she would never fully get over. True, in the church, she was one of the most qualified—choir and band director at the local high school, and the pastor’s granddaughter to boot—but it didn’t change the thrill and awe she felt every October when she would open the new material, reveling in the dancing black marks on the white pages, the dialogue and songs.

Today was the third to last weekend rehearsal for the musical, and she had gotten here two hours early to help her grandfather decorate the church…and to figure out who would replace Mitaka, the male lead up until yesterday morning, when he had called and regretfully informed her that he wouldn’t be home for Christmas, thanks to grad school and other reasons. The girl frowned, unlocking her tiny office, absentmindedly dusting off the placard on the door declaring her as “Music Director.” Rey groaned as she flopped down on her chair, unceremoniously dumping her purse and coat on the floor behind her, slumping her head on the desk, defeated already as she reviewed her cast.

She had no one to ask. Sure, Finn and Poe both had the voices to do fill the part—but their roles were pivotal, and she was wary of asking one of them to take on more, what with their day to day work. (Finn taught English at the high school with her, and Poe had his auto shop to keep an eye on, and frankly, she was still amazed that she was able to recruit them for the musical already, so she wasn’t about to push it.) Then there was Hux, who somewhat had the voice to fill the part…but she wasn’t about to give the production’s “prima donna” the satisfaction of a starring role. Besides, Rey knew better than to do any favors for Armitage Hux, the man being notorious for reading too far into things and for how doggedly he bothered her for a date, the history teacher never knowing how to take a hint.

Maybe Grandpa Ben had a suggestion. The twenty-four year-old perked up at the thought, and in a moment, she was crossing the hall, hand raised to knock, lowering it before knuckles hit wood. He wasn’t in there. Of course. It was 9:30 on a Saturday morning, and knowing her absentminded grandfather, he had probably made himself a cup of coffee in church’s kitchen and was in the sanctuary, looking over his sermon notes while waiting for her. Her steps faltered for a moment, wondering why she had a sense of anticipation settling over her, but she shrugged it off, taking off for the chapel once more.

The walk never took long, especially when she was running. As a little girl, Rey had memorized every step that could be taken in the church, just as she had memorized every song to be sung in the hymnal, and she took advantage of that, rounding a sharp corner with perfect precision, hand on the door in mere moments. The door had barely been cracked open when she faltered again, forehead scrunching, trying to identify the sound, relaxing now. She wasn’t surprised when she heard the low sound of voices in the sanctuary, the pastor’s granddaughter quickly shutting the door and turning on her heel. It wasn’t her place to intrude on anyone seeking counsel or solace.

The weeks before Christmas were always odd for the church. The music teacher told herself that she should be used to it by now, seeing old faces reappear and disappear with the coming and going of the holiday season. Sure, she was used to seeing those churchgoers who only came for Easter and Christmas, but the jarring appearances were from the prodigal sons and daughters of the congregation, the ones who came back with shame on their face and past sins on their mind. She had a feeling that this was one such individual—who else would be at church on a Saturday morning?

“Care to join us, Rey?” Even as an adult, her grandfather’s gentle voice could still make her feel like a child again, which was a wonderful thing at times. But now, there was that odd flutter of anticipation again, and she felt guilty, as if she just interrupted an important meeting, as if she had peeped on something strictly not her business.

She had barely stepped into the sanctuary, the stained glass window warmly shining an assortment of reds, blues and yellows onto the stage, when she stopped, eyebrows raised. Sitting on the stage’s edge, next to her grandfather, was the poster boy of prodigal sons.

Ben “Kylo” Solo.

True, he was the shop teacher in her school district, and yes, she knew that he was polite and quiet now, but he certainly hadn’t been growing up. He was ten years her senior, but still, she remembered him. When she was six, he rode his motorcycle through the church with the help of his friends, right up to the pulpit, during Christmas communion. She remembered because it had been the first time she had seen her grandfather angry, especially after Kylo had taken the communion wine glass and drained it with two long gulps. There were other instances of misbehavior, but that one stuck out to her, his smirk wide and burned into her childhood recollections.

No, she didn’t exactly have found memories of the Solo boy.

Still, her grandfather was grinning at her, and Kylo had yet to say anything, which she supposed was a good sign. “I think I solved your musical problem, dear.”  “Oh, have you now?” Rey kept her voice flat, as neutral as possible, striding to the stage, to the box of decorations that sat between the pastor and the sinner, watching the former bad boy flinch as she began pulling the nativity figurines out, averting his eyes as she pulled out Mary.

Grandpa Ben had yet to say anything, and so she looked up, realized that his pointed stare was in Kylo’s direction. Though Rey prided herself for having an open mind and heart, she felt herself blanch at the implication. “No.”

“Why not? Ben used to be the best singer in the youth choir. You need a singer. He wants to get involved in the church again. It’s a favorable trade, isn’t it?”  The woman bit her lip, afraid of letting an impending scoff loose. Just leave it to her grandfather to insist on seeing the good in everyone.

“It’s fine, pastor.” Both Kenobis jumped at Kylo’s murmur, turning to watch him stand, long limbs unfold as he stretched, his hands finding his jeans’ pockets. “It _is_ cutting it close. I wouldn’t want to mess anything up.”

“You won’t. Trust me—you’ll be fine.” Rey glared at her grandfather, his gaze hard on her, asking her to say anything to the contrary. She set the holiday decorations down with a huff, leveling a look at the shop teacher.

“Fine. You’re in. You don’t have to sing today—but if you’re serious about this, then I better see you after school, in the choir room, to rehearse with me. If you miss one practice—if you’re late to even _one—_ you better hope that God will forgive you, because I certainly won’t.” She turned on her heel now, yanking a box of decorations along with her, fuming as she retreated to the other end of the church. Though the wreaths’ plastic needles pricked her fingers, she decorated with a fury, trying to work the stunned face of Kylo out of her head, trying to drown out the half amused, half apologetic comment her grandfather had murmured just before she cleared the room: “I’m sorry—she takes this very seriously. Helps her remember her parents, you see.”

She didn’t want anyone’s pity—not God’s, not grandfather’s, and especially not the prodigal son’s.

 

If anything, Rey supposed that she was grateful that Kylo wasn’t late to their first private rehearsal—he was actually early, the shop teacher quietly letting himself in during her last class of the day. She didn’t turn and greet him just then, too busy, too focused on her students harmonizing in their rendition of “Greensleeves.” When she did, dismissing the junior class, he was spotted with oil, raising his hands apologetic.

“I didn’t get a chance to clean up…was teaching my freshman class how to change the oil on a car.” His smile was bashful, shrinking by a molar or two at her jab: “Not a motorcycle? Funny, I thought you had the most experience with that.” She watched him bite his tongue, and for a moment, she winced. She should be nicer. Still, she pulled herself up, smoothing her dress, waving him over to the piano. “Let’s see what you got.”

That first session wasn’t as bad as she thought. His voice was lower than Mitaka’s, a baritone instead of an alto, but it was an easy fix, a minor key change, and she could still harmonize with him, which was important. He was playing the Joseph to her Mary, and the fact that their voices blended pleasantly surprised her—vocal chemistry hadn’t been a thing with Mitaka, but she refused to think too deeply on it.

A bit begrudgingly, she complimented his ability, wondering why her stomach fluttered at his grin, at his ears turning red with pride and embarrassment, even now as she locked the music room’s door behind them. She turned, expecting him to be gone, his back to her, already halfway down the hall—but no, he stood by still, eyes on her, lips pursed, as if he was trying to read her like music.

“You don’t have to wait for me.” She tried being haughty, jutting her chin out, wondering why he laughed now. “Fine. I won’t wait for you next time—but I figured you would want someone to walk with.”

“Why would I want to walk with you? My car is literally out these doors.” He nudged her gaze away from the parking lot, nodding wordlessly down the hall, where Hux was trying to disentangle himself from a conversation, about to make a beeline to her.

With a groan, she surrendered, letting Kylo take her messenger bag, holding her music binder close. “Okay—fine. Just this once.” He laughed again, and she accepted his arm when he offered it. She couldn’t resist looking back at Hux, chuckling at his bewilderment, the sound being echoed by her companion. She didn’t mind his voice this time, forcing herself to stop before she shivered closer to him, the wind icy on her neck.

 

It wasn’t just that once, and Rey really didn’t know what to feel about it. The two teachers had settled themselves into an odd but pleasant routine. He’d turn up in her last hour, sometimes warming up with her students, the eleventh graders snickering at how their tiny music teacher bossed the shop teacher around, even though he easily loomed over her and could pick her up as if she was merely a twig, nothing more. They’d go over the songs after her class left, picking up where they left off the day before. Kylo was a fast learner, and it only took two sessions for him to remember the show’s order, and so they simply rehearsed. After rehearsal, he’d walk her to the car, bid her goodbye, and the process would repeat the next day, like clockwork.

He laughed at her nervousness their first weekend rehearsal, but she could sense his mutual anxiety. He did fine, as expected—how could he not, with his voice, with his charisma, old-timers and newcomers to the choir, the church in general, charmed by his quiet wit, his polite smile, his kindness.

But still, Rey fretted, even when she laughed herself to tears in her music room, Kylo coaxing out another smile with a compliment, a joke. The cantata’s performance date loomed closer, and her feelings were too mixed up with her leading man for her to remain calm. What happened in the music room was fine—there, she was just the music teacher, and he was the shop teacher, and they were bonding over their lives, their takes on different mutual memories.

In the sanctuary, in the building that had been more of her home than her own house had been growing up, she was the pastor’s granddaughter and he was the sinning bad boy—water and oil, unmixable elements. And that had her torn, wondering if her grandfather questioned her faith, her feelings, if she was any less worthy of her duty now that she was dealing with a temptation. There was more at stake onstage, at church—here, she couldn’t play favorites, something she never dreamed of being guilty of, until Hux cornered her before the last weekend dress rehearsal, the Saturday just before Sunday’s performance.

In the back of her head, Rey wondered how perverse the conversation looked, some inverted version of Gabriel visiting Mary, Hux adorned in his angel wings as he questioned her. Kylo was late this morning, and the history teacher had pounced, asking about her feelings for the shop teacher, if she considered them appropriate, if she should still direct the show. She stayed quiet, letting the words drip off her back as she rearranged the stage, the man insistent on shadowing every step of hers. It was his words, hot and harsh in her ear as she bent over the manger, staring into the eyes of baby doll Jesus that had her jerking her head up, seething in anger:

“You know that he only is sticking around to make amends with his family—and if he gets to fuck you, well then, I suppose that’s another selling point for him.” Her elbow was hard in his side, pushing him back and away from her, her mouth opened to speak, but anger stealing her voice as she trembled. She felt her throat tightening with tears, and it scared her: she wanted to be strong, be rude, like she had unjustly been to Kylo. Around them, the cast had gone silent, shocked, frozen in their places, an odd tableau as wise men and shepherds alike gaped at the “angel” and the virgin.

“Funny, Hux—I thought those were your motives for joining the musical.” Kylo’s voice was cool behind her, his hand warm and heavy on her shoulder as he stepped past her, a freezing gust following him into the chapel. “Kylo…” Rey’s voice returned, but she fell quiet at the gentle raise of his hand, his gaze still on the redhaired man quaking before him.

“You may want to get the hell out of this church if you’re going to talk to Miss Kenobi like that.” His statement was polite, but in that tone, the bitter aftertaste of a threat, there was the old Kylo, the sinner, the troublemaker—and Rey was grateful for it, watching Hux retreat, tearing the costume wings off of him as he went.

 

Later, after rehearsal, after everyone had gone home, patting Kylo on the shoulders, muttering gratitude and complaints about the history teacher, the music director and sinner considered each other. “Thank you…I’m so sorry that you heard that.” He waved off her apology, smile tense on his lips.

“It was bound to happen. Leave it to him to be a coward and say it when he thought I wouldn’t hear.” His laugh was more akin to a scoff, and she flinched at the harsh sound, softening when he did.

“What now?” She wasn’t sure how she had managed to push the words past her lips, how she had the voice to say them, throat raw from singing, from pent up tears. His gaze was on his feet, and he was caught between shrugging and throwing his hands up in the air. “What do you want?”

“I…I think I want to get to know you better.” He cast a sideways glance at her, looking up from his shoes, face skeptical. She struggled to keep herself upright as he slowly walked towards her, hand gently brushing her face, pushing hair away from her eyes. She could collapse in his arms right now, but it didn’t make her weak—it made her thankful, made her want to toss up a cry of gratitude, a hallelujah, especially now as his arms circled her waist, as his eyes anchored her in place.

“Are you sure? Do you really want to get to know a sinner like me?” He was teasing her, and so she snorted at him, burying her face in his neck, relishing how full his voice was when he laughed, chest rumbling under fingers with the sound.

It was okay to love a sinner—it didn’t make her less worthy of her faith, didn’t redeem him any less now. It filled her up more, fulfilled her more than a perfect performance could, and she didn’t know who to thank—God, or her grandfather, or even Kylo.

It didn’t matter, she decided. He was going to be by her side tomorrow, and the next day, the next week, the next year, and so on, singing. And that was enough of a blessing for her, stepping up on her tiptoes, and pressing a kiss against his lips, giddy when he returned the affection. Maybe he would help her compose a proper hallelujah.


End file.
